


Glory Hero

by Caesar_Chonii



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, M/M, mythical creatures, portspa, spaport
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caesar_Chonii/pseuds/Caesar_Chonii
Summary: Set in years behind technology, yet far beyond magic, there lays a Kingdom and its surrounding forest villages. Fire soon rages from the breath of a flying beast of skies, but it is left to a certain laid-back brown haired man who thought he wouldn’t be anything more than a simple traveler to defeat that roaring monster. Come along and travel with his friends, and quite maybe, soon lover, and solve this kingdom’s crisis.





	Glory Hero

**Author's Note:**

> yes more PortSpa

Thunderous roars, the echoing of harsh winds; spread of the monstrous wings made by the magnificent beast of the skies, though the echoes weren’t rippled through walls, yet the blue transparent glass of protection that separates the space and the earth. Should a knight of the fairytale appear in shiny holy armor, raising his hand in the air with a grasp of hope and determination that links him and his trusty sword, shall the beast of flame and sky fall to dust and title him, “king of the village”.

Well, that is too far in the story, is it not? Then how about we go all the way back to the beginning; 

“¡João!” Screams a Spanish accented voice, “¡Sube al caballo y date prisa, llegamos tarde como está!(Get on the horse and hurry up, we’re late as is!)” that voice filled with tender frustration and annoyance was only scratching nails on charcoal to his ears. “Oi, oi, estou chegando! (I’m coming!)” a deep, Portuguese esq. accent calls back, though, his voice sounded less in a rush and more in a laid-back tone.

“Idiot, we’re going to be late and it’ll be all your fault!” Antonío, also known as “João’s younger brother” within their solemn village hidden in twilights of the forest had blamed, “it’s always you!”

João had only nodded, twirling his fingers in his long, brown curly unbrushed hair while listening to his brother’s rants like music, though, less relaxing and more, as they say, “really stupid”. Perhaps he needed to cut his long, curly, luxurious cinnamon hair, refreshed with the finest of water a medium-man could do, or get an ego check. “Oi, Irmão, when are you going to stop nagging?” João huffed in slight annoyance, scoffing at his own huff and ego, he smacked himself mentally and cracked his back, “Eh, forget it, I’m coming!” 

Running to catch up with his brother, he hopped atop a horse and readied the saddle as quickly as he could, as hearing his brother’s impatient rabbles for any much longer would make him lose his patience. How come he had to wake up so late today? An idiot he is! It was usually, “Don’t keep big brother waiting”, not, “Idiot, we’re going to be late and it’ll be all your fault!” Sighing in frustration, slicking back his long hair, he whipped his horse to follow suit of his brother. The gruff rocks and gravel that smacked against their galleons’ armored hooves, it didn’t take a blue moon to reach the kingdom that they lived on the outskirts of. Leaving their horses in the care of a nearby stable, unfortunately wasting a good 15 rupees on a mediocre rancher, as every other advanced rancher was either a scammer or idiotic, they couldn’t take a risk.

“Is Arthur even up at this time?” Antonío asked, rubbing his neck and puffing airs of impatience. This man couldn’t wait on anything if his life depended on it, and João just happened to live with the most impatient man in the world while being simultaneously lazy and laid-back. “Espere um momento, você é muito impaciente. (Wait a moment, you’re very impatient.)” The older of the two spoke in his home language, slightly confusing his Spanish brother, as he hadn’t fully learned the language, “Arthur comes out in a few minutes. We can play a fun game of shut up and be patient if you’re interested.” 

Through his satire comment, Antonío only gave him a small glare and a nudge on the elbow with a huff of frustration following behind those series of actions. A soft chuckle managed to find its way out of the older male’s lips, for his younger brother was way too cute for his own good- Or rather, his play younger brother. Everybody knew these two as siblings but nobody knew João just offered to be Antonío’s older brother and he happened to accept. Well, nobody but Arthur, that is, but Arthur also knew too many things that most people wouldn’t even want to know.

Ruffled noises appeared and their eyes shot to the twisting knob- Which had revealed Arthur’s (really) good friend- Alfred. “Oh. Hey, you’re here! Uh, hold up, Arthur’s kind of-“ “Drunk? Yeah, that’s why I’m here.” João shuffled Alfred’s hair, also pushing Antonío forward and winking at him, implying that they should play, “Let the adults talk.” Leaving before Antonío could get all puffy at his teasing, he made his way to his good friend’s room, hearing noises of conversation leaving the solidarity of Arthur’s confinements, he didn’t find the manners to knock and interrupt whatever they had- or, whatever they should have had- As Arthur talked to himself from time to time, tried showing João his “magical friends”, and convincing Antonío that Arthur’s insane, which João feels conflicted about since he doesn’t want to insult his good friend, but he couldn’t find any other words to describe him more perfectly.

“Ei Arthur, estou aqui agora-(Hey Arthur, I’m here now-)” Entering the room with the tiniest of caution, he felt like he should leave the room in the greatest of urgency, standing in view of Arthur and a pentagram, as well as Arthur fully clothed in a cloth with two other people, João didn’t find the patience in HIMself to stay much longer. One of the hidden faces rise up from their stiff stance, then turned into a view of a pale face and blonde hair, bushy eyebrows and green eyes- Arthur. “Oh, welcome João. Apologies for not being able to open the front door, did Alfred at least treat you kindly?”

“Ah, sim(yes), Alfred treated us kindly.” Were the only words he responded with, learning not to question anything Arthur did or does. Actually, this isn’t the first time he’s walked in on him doing this, but frequent times he had 2 or more people with him- “Let me guess- Natalya and Vladimir?” Guessing, he slightly turned his body to face the two- which he had gotten correct. These two were frequent in Arthur’s.. Pentagram time thingy thing. “Yes, yes, would ya’ fancy a cup of tea, lad? We were just ‘bout to finish up, but we’ve a moment to spare.” Through Arthur’s thick British accent, and João’s lack of understanding English structure, he followed Arthur and his cult buddies to the living room with less of what he had in mind- Arthur was much more than a simple man, obviously, for João couldn’t predict what the hell he would do next, after, “inviting a lad for a cup of tea”.

João didn’t like that Arthur was even the slightest bit unpredictable to him- After all, they were friends for the longest of time, longer than any other friend Arthur had. João is also quite much older than everybody else in this house, holding a good 25 years front, whereas Arthur only presented 23, so feeling as if he should know every youngen’s personality, he felt sluggish not knowing his longest friend. “Give me a moment, will you? I’ve left ya’ at the front of the house in that bloody’ weather, couldn’t be more of a bad host, right? Tea’ll be out in a moment, perhaps ya should talk to Natalya.” 

Only nodding to Arthur’s request, he turned to Natalya with an awkward smile- and her glaring back at him. “O-Olá?” He nervously waved. The stiff air around them had only began to increase in awkwardness, only for her to respond in a thick Belarusian accent, “Привет(Hey).” Bri- Pribet? Privet? It was a wonder to him at this point, but he was sure it was either a greeting or a cuss word. “Yeah.” Turning to Vladimir, waving a moment, and then getting a good splash of cards slammed into his face and then yellings of, “Ești genul perfect pentru nevoia mea!(You’re the perfect kind for my need!)” his patience of anybody who wasn’t Antonío or Arthur at this point was at a good standing ZERO. “What? What did you-“ “Come with me!” Through his demand, João didn’t testify, only nudged a bit back to signify he didn’t want to go, but Vladimir didn’t seem like the type to listen.


End file.
